


Part & Parcel

by AceSpaceDog



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Mild Swearing, Not much really, Occasional violence, alcohol use, arthur is an intelligent man and hosea knows it and loves him, author has severe adhd and executive function problems, con fic, honestly its alcohol abuse and no one should drink like this, occasional gun violence, pre-blackwater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21599326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceSpaceDog/pseuds/AceSpaceDog
Summary: "Hosea and I are onto something. Something pretty big - might be a lot of cash coming in to do with a real estate scam Hosea thinks he may have discovered. I am not sure yet. The perfect crime, we think - one where we rob crooks. We are being real careful."Before the disaster aboard the Blackwater ferry, Arthur and Hosea stumble upon some other folks who are up to no good. They hope to get in on the action and have a little bonding time in the process.
Relationships: Hosea Matthews & Arthur Morgan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49





	Part & Parcel

Somewhere outside Blackwater, March 1899

“Arthur.” Arthur grumbled as the sound of his name being called edged its way into his sleep. “ _ Arthur. _ ” He swiped his hand lazily in front of his face as if to shoo a fly, but the voice continued with increasing annoyance. “For heaven’s sake Arthur, wake up. You’re as bad as Uncle.” That got him.

“What is it, old man?” Arthur said around a yawn. “Can’t a feller take a nap in peace?”

“Sure, he can, but I have something that’ll put some pep into those old bones of yours.” Hosea smiled as he extended a hand to help heave Arthur away from his spot against a tree. 

Arthur turned a dubious eye towards Hosea and was instantly skeptical of the glimmer of mischief in the elder’s eye. “What’re you on about?”

“How would you like to give me a hand scoping out a mark?”

“I gotta dress up?”

“Too early to say, but for now, no. Just wash up will you? We may be sleeping rough, but things haven’t been,” Hosea paused to run a critical eye over Arthur, “ _ that bad _ .”

Arthur dusted off his backside and took a moment to survey the camp. Hosea was understating their situation—that much was obvious. Things had, in fact, been very good. Sure, they were still camped out in the wilds, but it was early spring, and the mild and pleasant weather matched the mood of the gang. Folks were having a solid run of jobs with consistent payouts and little meddling by the law. Arthur couldn’t think of a time in recent years when the coffers and supplies were as full as they were now. As he cast his gaze across the camp, Arthur felt a swell of hope that this ragtag group of outlaws and outcasts would soon settle down on some land of their own and maybe, finally, put down some roots.

“Well, are you just going to stand there or are you going to help make a little money?” Hosea said as he gave Arthur a gentle shove towards the wash basin.

“Alright, alright, I’m goin’.” Arthur made his way over to the basin by his tent. He knew Hosea was just giving him a hard time; he wasn’t  _ dirty _ , but a quick wash and a little attention to his beard were warranted. He’d like to stop in town for a real bath, but for now this would be enough.

Once suitably clean, Arthur made his way over to the hitching posts where Hosea had already tacked Silver Dollar and had tied a chestnut quarter horse beside him.

“There you are. You ready to head out?” he asked.

“You tell me. You’re the one who’s chomping at the bit. What’s got you so worked up?” Arthur grabbed the reins from the post and threw them over the mare’s head.

“Do I have to have a reason? It’s a beautiful spring day, I’m heading out for a ride with my boy, and we’re going to make some money,” Hosea said, throwing his leg over his horse as Arthur did the same.

“I ain’t complainin’,” he started and gave the mare a firm squeeze, “but historically, you being this excited means I have to do something embarrassing, and I don’t think I’ve quite recovered from that job back in Dillon.” Arthur shuddered.

“Nonsense. You put on a brilliant performance, and no one was the wiser. Besides, if what I think is going on in town  _ is _ going on, well,” he paused. “Well, I think this will be much more to your sensibilities. And I think we’ll have some fun doing it.”

Arthur smiled as he and Hosea worked their horses to an easy canter. Despite his doubts about what the job could possibly be, it didn’t take much to convince him to ride along with Hosea. They hadn’t run too many jobs together in recent months as the chill and damp settled into Hosea’s lungs and drained him of his stamina. So, Arthur was more than happy to spend the time with him; even if it meant acting a fool.

They rode in companionable silence until they approached the cliffs where the Upper Montana drained into Flat Iron Lake. It had been a while since they were in the Great Plains, and while Arthur preferred the orange of the desert to the west, he couldn’t deny that it was pretty country.

“Don’t you think it’s about time you got yourself a new horse?” Hosea said as they made their way across the river.

“Oh, I don’t know, Hosea. Boadicea was just,” Arthur sighed. “She was just a real special horse, and I ain’t ready to commit yet.”

“You and your commitment issues. Thank god you don’t have that problem with us,” he said jokingly before changing his tone. “But I understand. She was fine old gal. It was a real shame she took that fall.”

Arthur furrowed his brow remembering how suddenly she went down. He couldn’t even blame it on anyone or anything. They’d been riding back from a couple easy hits on passing coaches when her hoof went straight into a prairie dog hole. She broke her leg and that was that. It was always hard losing a horse, and Arthur and Boadicea had shared a very tight bond. He was loathe to break in a new horse, though he knew Hosea was right. Eventually he’d have to find a new mount and start building the trust that made a horse an invaluable member of the gang and partner.

“The camp horses have been fine for the time being.” He leaned forward to pat the mare’s neck. “Seein’ as we’re almost in town, you gonna clue me in to what you have hatching or am I just here to look imposing.”

“Now, now, all in due time.” Hosea said as they brought their horses to a walk. “Come on, let’s hitch up and have ourselves a drink.”

They lashed the horses a little way from the saloon and easily made their way down the street. Blackwater was a relatively small town, but it was obviously growing. The signs of development and commerce evident in the construction around town, and the busy harbor where a large riverboat sat moored. It wasn’t anything like Chicago or San Francisco, but there were people enough to make Arthur just a little anxious. It was in towns like Blackwater that Arthur first learned how to survive, but it was the open country where he truly thrived. Nowadays, his forays into  _ civil-i-zation _ were for supply runs, baths, and actual robberies. He hoped to accomplish at least one of those tasks while here now.

Hosea led them into one of the saloons in the center of Blackwater. It was on the nicer side, so Arthur understood why he’d had to wash up. “A bottle of whiskey,” Arthur heard Hosea order from the bartender as they slid into a booth along the far wall. Arthur was getting a sense of the clientele and decided rather quickly that no one here seemed like a lucrative mark.

“Will you tell me now—” Arthur began before pausing when the liquor arrived. He poured Hosea and himself a glass. “Will you tell me what’s going on now? All these fools look like regular folk to me. Ain’t no one here that would get you fired up.”

“Astute observation as always Arthur, but the particular fools we’re here for have yet to arrive.”

They toasted to each other’s good health and chatted for several minutes before Arthur noticed a hungry spark alight in Hosea’s eyes.

“Perfect, they’re here.”

“Who is?”

“Just stay quiet and listen. Two gentlemen just walked in and are about to sit behind you." Hosea put his glass to his lips, while Arthur leaned back slightly in his seat to project an air of nonchalance. 

****

“When does Mr. Chatham return with his associates?”

“Christ, Jesse, the man just left! Won’t be back for a few weeks. Beginning of April, I think. Why?”

“No reason in particular.”

“You gettin’ nervy already?”

“ _ No _ , Caleb, I am not getting  _ nervy _ . Excited, though, sure. We pull this off, we’re made men!”

“Keep it down,” Caleb hissed. “We’ve got plenty of time to work out the particulars, but that also means we have plenty of time to screw things up. Roger Thomlinson is still on the fence.”

“What?” Jesse barked in a harsh whisper. “I thought you said we had him in our pocket!”

“He’s in our pocket, sure, but you know he has trouble visualizing potential unless it’s in front of his face.”

“That’s true enough. Can we work on that before Chatham arrives? I’d like to know all the players before the real work begins.”

“He’s up in Strawberry enjoying some ‘fresh air,’” Caleb paused, and Arthur imagined he rolled his eyes as he himself was doing. “But we have drinking plans when he returns at the end of the week.” 

“‘Fresh air,’” Jesse scoffed. “That man really is a fool.”

“A fool with no vision but his position at the bank makes him  _ ideal _ .” 

“You’d think he wouldn’t be interested at all given he’s the assistant branch manager and all.”

“Thomlinson hates those sonsabitches as much as the next man. Did you know his old man was a fraudster? That’s the rumor anyway. Thomlinson wants his one big score, so he can leave this town altogether and find himself some remote hole with the freshest air in the country. I can convince him this is the ticket.”

“Really thought you’d done this already, but I trust you.”

“Course you do, Jess! I ain’t never steered you wrong have I?” Caleb asked, sounding hurt but saccharine. 

“Course not. And I don’t expect ya to start. I just know you can get...distracted.”

“That was  _ one time _ . Besides. This score is gonna be our last! We’ll reel those New York yuppies right in, work ‘em all into a frenzy, and sell some land that ain’t ours to sell! At least one of those fools will be signing away their inheritance, and we’ll be on our way before the ink even dries.”

The two men sat in silence for some time before Arthur noticed the barman drop off a bottle of liquor and two glasses. He heard one of them pour each man a drink before Caleb continued, voice still tight with excitement. 

“I was thinking, though, it might be fun if we take shots at this though.”

“Caleb, no. What we’re trying to do is already risky, and frankly, if it works, already more than enough. We don’t need to sell it  _ twice _ .” Jesse was audibly exasperated, and Arthur got the impression that Caleb must be the sort to chase every whim while dragging his partner along for the ride. 

“But it would be  _ so _ easy! We’ll be long gone before anything comes of it! Plus, that extra cash will --”

“That extra cash won’t make a lick of difference but it’ll expose us to unnecessary risk.”

“Oh, come o-”

“No.”

“Fine, fine.” Caleb chuckled. “You are so much of my impulse control,  _ dear brother _ .”

_ Brothers _ , Arthur thought. Families could be tough marks. They were protective, and distrusting of outsiders. But they were also remarkably easy to break once you found an insecurity. 

“Alright, well, let’s head out. I don’t want to sloshing around here all day. Come on.”

The chairs squealed as the men rose to leave, but Arthur heard one of them, probably Caleb, pour a final glass of whiskey and throw it back all at once before roughly planting the glass on the table. 

“You’ll see, Jess. We’ll pull this off and live like kings.”

“Ain’t no kings in America, Caleb,” Jesse said as he headed towards the exit.

“Spoilsport!”

****

As the two men left the saloon, Arthur turned his attention more fully to Hosea, who, to all appearances, looked no different from any other man having a leisurely drink; but Arthur saw a shine in the conman’s eyes that had nothing to do with the liquor. 

“You want to pull a real estate scam?” he questioned with a chuckle. “Boy you sure are getting brazen in your old age.”

“I want to pull a scam on those folks pulling a real estate scam. That’s the best kind of work! Listen,” Hosea leaned in conspiratorially. “I’ve been watchin’ these fellers the last few days. Caleb’s married to the drink. Weren’t too obvious today, but he wasn’t kidding when he said Jesse was his impulse control. Was really on his best behavior.”

“And the brother?”

“Ostensibly the brains of the pair, but he is a philanderer of the worst kind,  _ and  _ he’s a gambler.”

“A real pair of upright citizens, I see.” Arthur picked up his drink and swirled the glass. “Who’s this ‘Mr. Chatham’?”

“From what I’ve been able to gather, he’s some upstart from New York or New Jersey...one of those New something or other. ,” Hosea waved his hand dismissively. “He was here in town discussing business with our soon-to-be best friends. Just left yesterday. He’s apparently returning to whatever cesspit of society he crawled out from to return with several other young men of fortunate birth are looking to make their own way out here in the frontier.”

“Blackwater counts as the frontier now, does it?”

“Hardly! But for those of the genteel sort he is, Blackwater and the Great Plains might as well be the Badlands.”

“You really think he’ll come back?”

“He was very obviously high of birth but also obviously low of brain, if you catch my meaning. Our brothers here may seem like bumpkins, but they really do have a way with people.”

“And this bank feller. Who’s he?” Arthur asked as he poured Hosea and himself another glass. 

“Roger Thomlinson, assistant branch manager of the Bank of West Elizabeth. Can’t say I know too much about him yet. May want to take a ride up to Strawberry to get a jump on reconnaissance.”

“Huh.” Arthur leaned back in his chair again and pulled his brow together in thought. “So what’s the angle? We gonna play another partner? That don’t seem quite like the best approach.”

Hosea didn’t say anything in response; as he watched Arthur continue to examine the amber liquid slowly circling the glass, he could see him formulating potential scenarios of his own.

“This sounds promising. Well, it sounds like it  _ could _ be promising. But honestly, Hosea, I wanna know a bit more about these two and their associates before we go insinuatin’ ourselves into their business. Caleb sounds like he’s the one we’re going to need to make good with somehow. Maybe give him something that’ll help him seal the deal with that bank man,” Arthur suggested. “If we can get Caleb to vouch for us, maybe we can exploit one of those bad habits they have. Use it against them.

“I am curious about this ‘selling twice’ thing. What’s so special ‘bout this land that you’d sell it twice?”

“That’s the real beauty of it, Arthur. The land is shit. Totally worthless. Barely even good for grazing.”

“Didn’t know sheep were so picky.”

“But it doesn’t even matter,” Hosea said, laughing.

“Why’s that?”

“We know it’s shit. The bank knows it’s shit. But Mr. Chatham, city fool that he is, doesn’t. And folks in the east don’t know it. But you draw up some beautiful pamphlets with images of an idyllic town, maybe a train station, civil services, all that good stuff that draws people to live in towns, and you tell them they can buy a slice of this pristine land on the cheap? Why,” Hosea paused and gestured at Arthur. “Even you could see yourself being a homeowner.”

Arthur threw his head back as he barked a laugh. “I like sleeping in a real bed from time to time, but I ain’t ever gonna be penned up so close to all these people. But I take your meaning. Sell the folks hundreds of miles away fake deeds all the while run some bidding war with the rich yahoos local. I suppose that’s why the bank feller is so vital.” 

“Hard to have a real estate transaction at the bank if you don’t actually own the land.” 

“Unless you own the bank. Or, own a banker, anyway.” They both nodded. “This is a bit of a long con don’t you think? Getting in bed with land developers?”

“No longer than--” Hosea paused to think of a comparable job. “Well, it’ll be longer than we’ve done recently, sure, but the gang is stable, and I doubt we’ll get a better opportunity to hit something like this for a while.”

Arthur smiled. Watching Hosea practically beam with enthusiasm was such a welcome sight, and if he were being honest, this did sound pretty fun.

“Alright, alright. I don’t need much convincing.” 

“Fantastic!” Hosea said, practically leaping out of his chair. They drained the remaining whiskey and toasted to their health and good fortune before they too stood to leave. “Arthur, my boy, I think it’s time you brushed up on your drawing skills.”

“Wait, _why_?” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I've been toying with this idea from the get go. I love love LOVE how much Arthur and Hosea respect each other and I was desperate for more interactions between the two. Gotta be my own hero I suppose. My Arthur is very much an intelligent man. I have no doubt that given the opportunity, he'd have been able to aptly lead the gang in Dutch's stead. Anyway, no beta. As they say: "We die."


End file.
